


Reaction Time

by dyingpoet, Elder_Higgins



Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Learning to Fight, M/M, Pining, Play Fighting, concern dallas winston, platonic/romantic - Freeform, two-bits being an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 22:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20824961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elder_Higgins/pseuds/Elder_Higgins
Summary: There was a fist flying right at him. Unlike when it was his father’s bruised knuckles rappelling towards him, the world seemed to move in slow motion. For once in his life, Johnny Cade had time to react, he just wasn’t that great at it.





	Reaction Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to whoever left @dying-poet this prompt on tumblr! I had so much fun being able to write this with her :))

It had been Dally’s idea. Ever since Johnny had staggered through the door to his room at Buck’s; battered, bruised, and tripping over his own feet. That night had been pretty rough. A group of Soc’s had stopped him before he’d even had the chance to take shit at home. 

“You gotta learn to protect yourself, Johnnycakes.” The room was hazy paired with the strong smell of tobacco, peering through the smoke Johnny could see Dally moving towards him, hand extended. “Show them you ain’t one to be walked on.” 

Johnny grabbed the hand, struggled to his feet, and stumbled forward, nearly smacking into Dally’s chest. “I ain’t gettin’ walked on, there was three or four of them at least.” 

If Johnny was being honest, he didn’t like fighting all that much. Sure, he did his part in rumbles, and if it was one-on-one he could hold his own, but he stayed out of stuff when he could. Maybe it was that he experienced too much violence from his old man, the thought of hurting someone else made him sick. 

Dally shook his head. “Well you still gotta learn better. Think of it like, ah, you’re lookin’ out for yourself, self-defense and all that. And besides, it ain’t like you’re goin’ around picking fights and shit anyway.” 

“You never know.” 

“Hmm?” Dally looked down at Johnny and frowned. He reached out to to brush a few strands of hair that had been plastered to a decent sized gash on his forehead. “Don’t go talkin’ like that.” 

Johnny didn’t say anything else. 

\---

Ponyboy was taking one of those smart person classes. The one where the feed you all that bullshit about how the brain works, the stuff shrinks liked to use on people. He’d done a paper on how people are more likely to become products of their environment. He thought he was some sort of expert now and he hadn’t stopped hounding Johnny about it since he turned it in. 

The way Ponyboy figured it, if Johnny kept living with his old man he’s eventually turn out like him. 

Pony hadn’t meant it as harsh as it sounded; in fact, he had been arguing the opposite. “I’m just sayin’, it'd be better if you just crashed with us. You said yourself they wouldn’t do nothin’ if you bailed out.” 

He had a point, and Johnny couldn’t really shake the idea out of his head, even the next day. 

“Johnnycakes? Are you even listening to me?” Dally’s voice cut through his thoughts like a light in the darkness. At some point Johnny had gone from standing in the doorway of Dallas’ room to sitting on the busted-out cot against the wall. 

He took a moment to take in his surroundings, which probably would have been the smart thing to do when he had first fallen through the door, but his ribs were killing him and he couldn’t think about much else. 

The room was barely big enough to fit the cot and table had been shoved in as a second thought. It had most likely been a broom closet that Buck transformed into a pathetic excuse of a bedroom to earn a few extra dollars. 

“You got a small room this time. Did ya piss Buck off or something?” 

Dally ignored him. “If you won’t learn to take care of yourself then just come live with me, man. I’m sick of this shit.” 

Johnny knew it was barely an offer, and honestly, he was getting sort of fed up with everyone acting like he was about to fall down dead if he wasn’t being watched at all times. But he fought back the argument for a second and stared rigidly at the door, now closed, in front of him. 

“Just teach me how to fight.” He regretted the words as soon as they’d left his mouth, because Dally’s eyes went cold for a second before he shook his head and walked out of the room, mumbling something about going to get a drink. 

\---

It had been warm enough to sleep in the lot this past week. After Dallas had bailed on him that night to get hammered at the bar, Johnny had been avoiding him. He had left before Dally had gotten back, choosing to spend the night at home where his father was already passed out. 

That next morning he slipped out the front door while his parents slept. The sun had yet to break over the horizon. Johnny had considered going to school, he had a math test today, but it was hard enough without getting stares from how fucked up his face was, plus Pony and Steve would be all over him from the second he walked in the door. They weren’t trying to piss him off, but constantly being treated like a kid was getting on his last nerve. Better to just avoid the whole gang for a few days. 

So during the day he hung around the park or the woods behind it. Nobody was really there while the sun was up anyway. He waited to head over to the lot until it got dark. Eventually he’d have to poke his head in the Curtis’ house or else they’d put him on the back of a milk carton. 

He threw another stick on the small fire he’d set up and pulled out a cigarette from the carton he’d laid down. Holding out in front of him, he lit it on the edge of the fire and took a long drag. 

Fuck he was hungry, too. School and the Curtis’ house were the only places he ever got something resembling a full meal, and he was living off smokes and whatever little stuff he could stuff in his pockets at the drug store. It wasn’t enough. 

To prove it, his stomach growled painfully, and a voice came up behind him. 

“That don’t sound too good.” 

Johnny started to scramble up, nerves acting before he could think, and Dallas’ hand clamped down on his shoulder and pushed him back down. He took a seat next to him, not speaking. 

It was tense, and Johnny gave Dallas one sidelong glance before looking down at the grass crushed under his sneakers. When he started pulling apart the blades Dallas cleared his throat. 

“Where you been the last couple days? The boys were gettin’ worried.” 

Johnny shrugged and let out a breath. “Around, ain’t felt like goin’ to school much.” 

“The Curtis’ either?” 

“It’s nothin’, Dal.” 

He heard Dallas shift, and he looked over to see he’d turned to face Johnny, looking a mixture of pissed and confused. Mostly pissed. “What’s nothin’?” 

Johnny shook his head and clawed at the sleeves of his jacket, pulling his eyes away from Dallas’. “Just forget I said anythin’, it ain’t important-” 

“Bullshit,” Dallas snapped, raising his voice enough to get Johnny to look at him again. “You’ve been avoidin’ the whole gang all week, it’s somethin’.” 

He didn’t want to admit it. Whenever he would make offhand comments about not being a kid around the gang, they’d always ignore him. That, or tell him to quit whining they were just looking out for him. 

“Y’all treat me like I’m a kid.” 

Johnny spat out the words with more edge than he planned on, and he kept himself from taking it back when Dallas gaped at him for a few seconds. 

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Dallas finally bit out, looking around the lot like somebody had an answer. “Nobody ever-” 

“That ain’t true,” Johnny cut in, “everybody keeps actin’ like I can’t take care of myself, even- even though I do just fine at home without anybody bustin’ down the door.” 

Dallas, to Johnny’s surprise, snorted. “Are you kidding? You’re all bent outta shape because we don’t like seein’ you get your ass beat?” 

He had a point, putting it like that, and Johnny leaned back, palms flat against the ground behind him propping him up. His stomach twisted, that’s what he gets for telling the truth. No one got it. “I dunno.” 

“Well I do, and it’s stupid,” Dallas said, picking up one of the sticks Johnny had collected earlier for the fire and throwing it hard into the fire. “Two-Bit ain’t shut his damn mouth since you stopped hangin’ around either, and everybody’s ‘bout ready to bust his head in.” 

Johnny chuckled a little, the tension between them fading, and he jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the house. “He there now?” 

Dallas nodded. “Yeah, I left right when he came in.” 

“I should probably go over there.” 

“Yeah.” 

They sat there for a couple more minutes before Johnny’s stomach growled again, and Dallas shot him a look. Before he could even say anything, Johnny stumbled up, the older boy following suit. They started to walk over to the house. 

“Hey Dally?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You still gotta teach me to fight.” 

Dallas grumbled out something along the lines of, “I don’t gotta do nothin’,” but didn’t shoot Johnny down, so he considered it a win. 

\---

By the time Dally and Johnny stepped through the door to the Curtis’ it was already noon. Darry had been off at work for a while and Pony was, no doubt, acing that math test. Meaning the house was either empty or the three people that should never, ever, be left home alone together were left home alone together. 

“Oi! In here!” The voice could only belong to Two-Bit and the groans that followed were easy to distinguish. 

“Since when do ya say ‘Oi’?” Steve laughed, sticking his head out to see who had come in. “Johnny long time no see.” 

There wasn’t time to roll his eyes, Soda had sprinted to Johnny and wrapped his arms tightly around him. The hug only lasted a few beats and, when Soda pulled away, he began to shout. “Where the fuck have you been? Darry has been beside himself an’ I-” 

“Lay off him would ya,” Dally said as he made his way into the kitchen. “I already gave him a good talkin’ too.” 

Sodapop grinned, nudging Johnny playfully. “He sounds more like Darry everyday.” 

“I heard that.” 

“Oi-” Two-Bit let out a yelp as he was, more than likely, shoved by Steve- “Hey! I can say whateva the fuck I wanna. Johnny, you want a sandwich?” 

As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said and they all shared a laugh at Johnny’s expense. 

Soda threw an arm around Johnny’s shoulders and led him into the kitchen. As soon as he walked in, he kicked himself for ever avoiding them. He hadn’t even been back for five minutes and they already had him in stitches. 

Steve’s face was covered in ham, complete with eyehole’s and a mouth hole. “Johnny,” he sang, but couldn’t say anything more without giggling. “It’s so good to meat you.” 

Even Two-Bit groaned at that joke. “Seriously? That was too cheesy,” he said and Steve got a piece cheese right between the eyes. The goofy grin on his face was a blatant giveaway that he had been waiting for the right time to make that joke. 

“That was bad, even for you Two-Bit,” Johnny said, but couldn’t help the smile on his face. 

Steve practically doubled over in laughter. “Ya know, I missed ya so much.” 

He cast a glance in Dally’s direction. He was sitting on the table, eating a sandwich, and looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else. Dally caught his gaze and rolled his eyes, smiling as he took another bite into his sandwich. And, just like that, their argument had been forgotten. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” Steve asked between bites of ham. He was slowly peeling back layer by layer and feeding them to himself like a mother bird feeds her babies. 

The behavior was so distracting, he almost forgot to respond until Soda elbowed him. “Oh, well, aren’t you supposed to be at work?” 

Steve popped the last piece of ham in his mouth and grinned. “Fair enough.” 

Dally hopped off the table, grabbed Johnny’s sandwich from Two-Bit’s hands, and lead Johnny outside. “I’m teachin’ him to fight, man.” 

“Don’t you dare start without us!” Two-Bit yelled and they left him to scramble in making three more sandwiches. 

The setup, Dally decided, was going to be on the patchy grass out on the side of the Curits’. Dally was busy scrounging around for a stick, they’d decided it would be best to set up a ring some shit about “footwork in close combat.” Johnny watched as he munched on his sandwich. It was sweet, how much concentration Dally was putting into this. His tongue poked out at the side of his mouth as he drew and redrew the lines. Why he was putting so much effort in? 

Honestly, Johnny couldn’t give less of a shit about this lesson. The only reason he’d even brought it up was as a makeshift apology to Dally. He had all the fighting skills he needed, anyway. Throw a couple well-placed punches, then hightail out of there. 

Call him a coward. Johnny couldn’t bring himself to stoop to their level, making someone eat pavement and shit like that. 

“Ok, Jonnycakes.” Dally shed his shirt, rolled his shoulders, and shifted into a fighting stance. “Let’s go.” 

Before Johnny could even move, there was a ruckus on the porch. He and Dally’s attention snapped towards the front door where Two-Bit was attempting to push through the threshold at the same time as Steve, all while balancing lunch. 

“Get the fuck outta my way! They’re staring without me.” 

By some struck of comedic genius, he had managed to physically wedge them into a position where they both were stuck in the doorframe. 

“Aye, I was comin’ through before you!” Two-Bit retorted, louder than necessary. 

Behind them Soda shouted, “Both of you, shove off!” before he pushed his way through. They all stumbled forward, almost falling, not due to the force, but the laughter at Soda’s quick wit. 

Two-Bit caught Johnny’s eye and winked. All the nerves pent up inside him melted away. Despite being the most annoying person Johnny had ever met, Two-Bit was also the most caring. 

The three sprawled out on the porch steps with sandwiches and cola’s, ready for a show. Johnny stepped into the ring - if it could even be called that, Dally had tried his best, but it had come out as a misshapen pentagon at best - the crowd went wild. 

“Kick his ass, Johnny!” Soda yelled through a mouthful of ham and cheese, beside him Steve cackled and shouted something as well. Whatever he was trying to say had no doubt been supportive, but Darry wasn’t here to reprimand them for talking with their mouths full, so most of their cheers were just a spew of crumbs. 

Johnny shot them a nervous grin and brought his hands up limply to protect his face. 

“What the fuck kinda fightin’ stance is that?” Two-Bit yelled, it was about time a coherent sentence left one of their mouths. 

“Um, my kind?” 

Dally snorted, the sound made Johnny’s nose turn pink. He dropped his fists and took a step closer to inspect his stance. “Johnny weren’t ya just goin’ on about how you could take care of yourself? One punch an’ you’d be on the ground.” 

“Shut up,” he grumbled. 

“Just sayin’, man.” Dally shot him a grin. “Here, watch me.” 

Johnny bit back the small “gladly” that had popped into his head. Two-Bit might have made him a little too comfortable, if he said some shit like that none of the guys would ever let him live it down. 

“Ok, feet shoulder width apart. Yeah, like that. Gotta keep yourself rooted,” he said. “No, on your toes, man. You have to be ready for anythin’ if you aren’t on your toes then you’ll be too slow.” 

Suddenly, there was a fist flying right at him. Unlike when it was his father’s bruised knuckles rappelling towards him, the world seemed to move in slow motion. For once in his life, Johnny Cade had time to react, he just wasn’t that great at it. 

He had been on his toes, but his arms had been at his side and he panicked. Johnny let the punch land on his gut with a groan as he almost doubled over. 

“That’s tuff.” 

Johnny couldn’t figure out who had said that, so he turned to glare at the three collectively before training it onto Dallas. “What the fuck? I just ate,” He wheezed. 

“You have to be ready, man. Feels tuff, huh? Clench your stomach, it won’t hurt as bad.” 

He did as he was told and brought his hands up to protect his face, it didn’t need any more bruises. But that wasn’t to Dally’s liking either. He was such a fucking perfectionist. 

“Okay, arms up. Not like that, you look like a girl. Keep your right hand closer to your face, that way you get more power when you punch. Put your elbows out a bit, no, no too much, there.” Dally grinned at him. “Now you look like a girl that can fight.” 

The insult didn’t sting as much as it should have. Was being called a girl better or worse than being treated like a child? Johnny didn’t have time to finish the thought. Another blow was flying at him. He jumped back. 

“Hey! It’s not nice to hit a broad, Dal.” Two-Bit was cackling, which drew the slightest quirk of a smile onto Dally’s lips. 

He shook his head and bit back a laugh. “Johnnycakes you gotta stop gettin’ distracted, but that was a good recovery. You kept your head tucked and went right back to position, now-” 

The timing had seemed good enough. Dally was distracted, letting his posture suffer, so Johnny to the opening and struck. 

“Holy shit!” Soda shouted. “Way to go, Johnny!” 

His fist had shot out and buried itself into Dally’s gut, but he was becoming cocky and went for a second hit without considering defending himself. Dally had been in a lot of fights, so Johnny expected him to be able to dodge it. What he had failed to consider was that he knew how to recover from a dodge and retaliate. 

Pain spread across his face as Dally’s fist connected with his chin. The hit wasn’t hard, but it didn’t have to be. Johnny was stupid enough to bite down when the punch met it mark, splitting the inside of his cheek and sending a gush coppery blood into his mouth. “Fucker,” he gagged. 

So, that’s how they were going to do this. Raising his fists shakily to protect his face, the two began to fight. 

Dally was faster than Johnny had been expecting. It suddenly made sense why he rarely came out of a fight with nothing more than some bruised knuckles or a black eye; Johnny was struggling to keep up. He was a mess of jumping to avoid being hit and ducking. “Couldn’t I have fought someone else?” He wheezed and swerved out of the way of an incoming right hook. Not even the Socs were this good. 

“If you can handle me, then you’ll be fine roughin’ up anybody else.” Dally let a bark of laughter. 

“Hey! Go easy on the kid, Dal,” Soda yelled from over on the porch. Steve, unofficial second half of Sodapop Curtis, finished Soda’s thought for him. “Yeah, not all of us is as good as you!” 

They meant it in jest, but Johnny decided he’d rather be called a girl than a kid. 

“How ‘bout less talkin’ and more fightin’? I’m almost done with my sandwich!” Two-Bit said, at least that’s what Johnny could make out. His words started to get fuzzy after the first few words. 

Dally rolled his eyes, glanced at Johnny with a grin, and waited. He bounced on his toes, hands up, ready for Johnny to go on the offensive. Johnny shook his head, “no” he mouthed, only making Dally’s smile widen more. 

“C’mon Johnnycakes!” His ever-present cheerleaders in the world were screaming, hooting, hollering, and making whatever unnecessary noise they could. 

Blood pounded in his ears, a rushing current of nerves and adrenaline. Dally’s face in front of him flickered. Sharp features morphed into soft, plush cheeks. Entitled, taken care of cheeks. His eyes lost their steely glint. There was the faint outline of a letterman jacket. 

For just a moment Dallas Winston took form of a Soc, and that’s all Johnny Cade needed to snap. 

He rushed him, aiming as though the hit would land high so that, when Dally went to block, he switched and punched with his opposite hand right in his diaphragm. 

The punch wasn’t as strong as it could have been, he was punching with his left hand after all, but it was enough to render Dally useless for a few seconds. As he attempted to catch his breath from the diaphragm spasm, Johnny landed a few other punches to the gut and one deafening blow to Dally’s chin. 

Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit were going wild on the stairs. Dally fell to the ground with a thud. 

“Fuck!” Johnny dropped down beside him, placing a hand on his heaving shoulders as he raggedy inhaled. “I’m sorry, Dal. I dunno what got into me.” 

Dally glanced at him, wide smile gracing his typically impassive demeanor. “You sure know how to fight-” a beat passed- “kid.” 

“Shut up,” Johnny said, but he couldn’t help it. He smiled too. 


End file.
